Monster
by tempus terere
Summary: In the end beauty always kills. May and Drew learn this the hard way. — MayDrew, and the sacrifices offered in between
1. A Girl's Promise

**Notes:** Genre-wise, this is a new cast for me so do leave reviews, please.  
**Notes' notes:** The first chapters won't be quite as tension-packed as the summary implies, sorry!  
**Notes' notes' notes: **This is the first "book" of my _Les Sacres Coeurs Series_.

—_Chapter 1_—

A Girl's Promise

The Maples were probably the happiest family one could find in Petalburg City and, through and through, content with their normal life.

Mr. Maple was the leader of Petalburg's gym, a tall and very gentle man, with a heart that easily outweighed his slight lack of cerebral matter. Mrs. Maple was a beautiful and responsible person, an excellent cook and regularly liked to misinterpret other people's intentions. They also had two lovely kids: May, the older one, was a sweet teenage girl, who loved pokémon contests and had a tendency evolve into a gluttonous beast whenever food, preferably noodles, was mentioned. Max, her younger brother, had a more rational nature and was currently out on his second pokémon journey, the area of choice being the Sinnoh region—a fascinating place not too far away from Hoenn. In the eyes of their parents there didn't exist one child in the world who was more splendid than them.

Nobody, especially not they themselves, would have believed that something would be able to destroy the Maple's family peace, yet one of them had a secret that was easily able to achieve that (im)possibility. May Maple was, as she had been born first, to inherit her father's position as Petalburg's gym leader on her fifteenth birthday in less than one month—this was an old and treasured tradition in the Maple clan—and it was her greatest worry that someone could find out that she didn't want it. It would tear Mrs. Maple apart, of that May was certain, now that she and her husband could finally go on that vacation that had been nothing more than a simple daydream before. Not to mention her fans. What would they say, should she refuse? Or their neighbours? The list of names was endless and she had sworn on it that she would not ruin her own family's happiness, ever.

When she opened her eyes on that wonderful, sunny Wednesday morning on which this story takes its origin, nothing foreshadowed that soon she would break her promise. Mr. Maple was already eagerly devouring his breakfast as May came down the stairs, still slightly sleepy, while Mrs. Maple busily watered her precious orchids.

None of them paid attention to the bright red letter lying on the middle of the kitchen table, partly hidden by the monthly bills.

It wasn't until two hours later, when Mrs. Maple was finished with most of her daily housework, it was finally being noticed. At first, Mrs. Maple had thought it was some sort of advertisement—those insurance companies were persistent these days—but she hesitated at the person it was addressed to.

Miss M. Maple  
Mayor Fink Street 21  
Petalburg City  
Hoenn

The next thing she perceived as odd was the envelope's weight: it was heavy, incredibly so for mere advertising. Unsure of what she should make of this, she searched for the letter's sender. It was imprinted in the upper left corner, written in a bold, white font: **Aquarion Pokémon Training Camps for Battlers, Breeders and Coordinators**. A stamp was missing.

Instantly Mrs. Maple was alarmed. For a moment she just sort of stared at the envelope, as though it would reveal its contents and purpose to her if she waited long enough, then she stood and hurried to the greenhouse in the backyard of her husband's gym, where she knew he was currently training his slaking.

"N—Norman!" she choked out, panting, and held out the letter like some deadly device that could kill them all. "Look at this!"

Mr. Maple turned around and curiously took the envelope from his wife. A few seconds of silence passed until he looked up, grinning, "This looks interesting, but why are you showing it to me instead of May?"

Mrs. Maple could have burst into tears. "Because—because—ARE YOU BLIND?" She spluttered, appalled, and violently gestured with her arms in various directions. "This thing doesn't have a stamp on it! It could be from a stalker! Or worse, what if it's some evil plot to make her sign a contract and invest all of her savings into worthless properties? I've heard it's happened before—"

"Caroline," Mr. Maple cut in very seriously. "What are you talking about?"

Mrs. Maple looked like she was about to faint.

"Caroline," Mr. Maple repeated and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Have you even opened it yet?"

At this Mrs. Maple puffed her chest, and snatched the envelope out of her husband's hand. "I don't need to!" She said shrilly. "I know exactly what this is!" With long, jerky strides she began to retreat to the house. From behind she could hear Mr. Maple sniggering. Back in the kitchen, she tore the unruly letter into little shreds and threw it mercilessly into the dustbin. She would allow no-one to mess with her beloved baby daughter.

The next day started off just as beautifully as the previous had. The sun was generously sharing her light and warmth with the world, the pidgey chirped merrily and Mrs. Maple was in a superb mood. She greeted her daughter with an extra large peck on the cheek and scurried away to check the mail. May peered after her with a mix of worry and amusement, which changed quickly when Mrs. Maple began swearing uncontrollably. She followed her voice and stopped at the doorframe.

"Mom, is everything all—"

She was cut off by precisely that mother, who had rather rudely pushed her aside and was now practically shoving something in Mr. Maple's face. Something crimson red and of the size of a folded piece of DIN A 4 paper.

"Look at this," she ordered him. He had to duck in his seat to protect his nose from getting smothered. "Haven't I told you, Norman? _Haven't I told you?_ It's a stalker; he knows I threw the last one away!"

"Excuse me, but,"—May eyed her parents suspiciously—"what are you doing there?"

Mrs. Maple looked at her with wet, concerned eyes, let the letter fall on the table and promptly pulled her into a firm hug. "It's OK, dear, everything is fine," she said, chanting the words to herself like a mantra.

But nothing was OK. May untangled herself from her mother and grabbed the envelope. It took her five seconds to understand what was going on. "Mom," she said, "This is post for _me_."

Mrs. Maple exchanged a look with her husband, who shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "May, you need to listen. This—this thing has no stamp glued on it. Do you know what this means?"

May stared at her in a manner Mrs. Maple did not approve of.

"Aren't you even remotely worried?" she asked her daughter disbelievingly. "It could be—"

"Nothing," Mr. Maple chimed in. He sounded uncharacteristically resolute. "Come on, May, open it."

She more than happily complied and read:

**AQUARION POKÉMON TRAINING CAMPS FOR BATTLERS, BREEDERS AND CORDINATORS**

President: Darius L. Burton  
(Educated pokémon trainer, breeder and coordinator with experience in tournaments,  
and qualified educationalist)

May 9th 20XX

Dear Ms. Maple,

we are pleased to inform you that you are one of the selected few to have been invited to our training camp for coordinators. This annual event takes place on the Soloux Islands and lasts for two weeks. A ferry, the MS Aquarion, will take you both on your way there and back; it will set sail at the harbour of Slateport City on May 17th at 10 o'clock.  
A list of required equipment is enclosed.

Sincerely,

Barbara McAllister  
Leading Management

One after the other questions popped up in May's mind and she couldn't quite decide whether she should ask them or not—what if Mrs. Maple threw another tantrum and her blood vessels exploded in the process?

After a few minutes had passed, she said, kind of helplessly, "It's an invitation for a training camp. It starts in—in a week. "

Mr. Maple looked satisfied with himself and enjoyed another gulp of his coffee, whereas his wife seemed very much affronted. "I hope," she sniffed disdainfully, "you know what this means."

"Does she really have to turn the offer down?" Mr. Maple asked, as if he had been the one addressed, and frowned. May was occupied with studying the list of the required equipment.

Mrs. Maple shot him a funny look. "Well, of course. Even if we would like her to go, it's too late now. Our tickets are booked, and they were pretty expensive, too. You can go another time," she said, now directed at May, and smiled apologetically.

May experienced great difficulties falling asleep that night. She was tossing and turning and couldn't prevent her mind from flickering back to the invitation she'd received. It was indeed strange that no stamped had been put on the envelope, but the very imagination of a training camp for coordinators was so tempting, it was ridiculous. Especially since she knew she would never be performing on a stage again unless she bore a child that turned out to be miraculously fifteen or Max, her little brother, came back home before May 17th and her parents agreed to the idea of a thirteen-year-old managing a gym and a household on his own.

The next days she spent torturing herself with all sorts of what ifs and could have beens that would probably make Mrs. Maple lose consciousness if she ever were to hear them. Her pokémon were trying to cheer her up, (they had noticed her bad mood instantly when she had called them out for their daily work-out) but that only made it worse. In her worst moments she had even wished for them to disappear, so she wouldn't be reminded of what she was going to miss out, and had regretted it instantly.

On Sunday May decided that her life officially sucked. Her parents behaved more lovey-dovey than usually, a postcard from Max had arrived on Saturday, telling them how wonderful Hearthome City was during this season, and she had just spilt grape juice all over her new white shirt. It had now a big pale pink dot on its front and clung coldly to her body. She felt horrible.

Carefully, she peeled the dripping cloth off her and threw it into the kitchen sink. She was too frustrated with herself to care whether attire that was soaked in sticky, red liquid even belonged in such a place.

Approximately forty minutes later Mr. Maple entered the room. At first he was mildly surprised to see his daughter sitting drearily at the kitchen table, dressed only in a pair of shorts and—well, a bra, but then he took a seat opposite of her and, having understood what was clouding her spirit, said, "It's OK if you want to go; I won't mind. Your mother is gonna cry bloody murder about it, but … she'll get over it."

May chose to respond to this by glaring daggers at the marble floor under her feet.

Mr. Maple sighed. "Look," he said and yet again his voice seemed so sensible in her ears, it was unsettling. "I know you don't really want—," he paused, "—all this, so go and do what you think is right for you."

May glanced at him as though he had grown several additional eyes; four at least. A bitter smile was tugging at her lips.

"We're your _parents_," Mr. Maple said and shook his head in a disapproving manner. "Not some wild mightyena, out to get you."

The rest of the day slipped by without any memorable events—the gym was closed on Sundays as were the shops downtown, so it remained all in all very peaceful around the Maples' home. The same did not apply for May's thoughts. In her head she was scheming. Her father's words had encouraged her—enough to make her believe that she could do this despite the bad conscience that would inevitably haunt her every night.

Before going to bed, she once again checked her bag, and set her alarm clock on 6 AM. Then she excitedly waited for sleep to lull her into its numb embrace.


	2. The MS Aquarion

**Notes:** please don't start vomiting at the end of this chapter; I really don't want to be responsible for any malfunctioning keyboards, all right?

—_Chapter 2_—

The MS Aquarion

At pointedly six o'clock early in the morning May's alarm clock shrilled. Hastily, she switched it off and dressed herself as quietly as human possible. She couldn't risk waking her parents, although it was really only her mother that worried her.

Without bothering to turn on the light, she swung her bag over her shoulders, slipped into her sneakers and tiptoed down the stairs. The sun had already begun rising, lazily illuminating the Maples' house through whichever window that hadn't been properly provided with curtains.

May left a small, scribbled note she had written last night ('_I'm on my way to Slateport. Don't search for me. Love, May_') on the kitchen table, before stepping out on the street and leaving behind more than just an old-fashioned, sleepy villa.

Travelling alone, she had to realise once again, was something incredibly boring. Especially so, since she'd gone this way already countless time before, not only together with Ash, Brock and her little brother. At least it wasn't going to last too long—when she arrived at Slateport, she finally wouldn't be alone anymore. Perhaps this could even turn out to be a great opportunity to make new friends, she thought, suddenly a lot more optimistic than before.

At noon she arrived in Oldale Town, a small, peaceful place located in between Petalburg and her destination, Slateport City. She decided to have a quick lunch here. It was, by all means, nothing fancy, just four bowls of her favourite meal (pork flavoured ramen) and then she instantaneously headed farther westwards. If nothing else, she wanted to have at least crossed the large lake that lay on route 103 before nightfall.

To her delight, she even managed to reach route 110, which meant she didn't need to hurry and get up early again so she wouldn't miss the ferry. In fact, there was probably still time _left_ to pay Slateport's market a visit and buy a few useful items before the ship to the Soloux Islands sailed off.

May smiled, as she set up her tent, even though she had broken the vow she had made with herself, her pokémon were the only companions at her side, and strange noises that sounded suspiciously like shattering glass and maniacally laughter regularly emitted throughout the night from the nearby Trick House.

The next day May didn't awake to the buzzing of her pokénav, but to an explosion that almost blew up her tent. Faintly terrified, she crawled outside to see what had happened. Unsurprisingly, the cause for the racket seemed to lie within the Trick House, as a giant hole had been blasted into its wall from the inside. Somewhere from beneath the wreckages, a figure emerged, staggered, and fell directly on their face. Upon closer inspection May could see it was the Trick Master, a peculiar and slightly corpulent man, who was, logically, the owner of the Trick House and annually challenged people to fight their way through it. (The lucky one to come out first won a Great Prize, which varied each year.) Concerned, she scurried over to him and helped him stand up.

"Thanks, girl," he panted, steadying himself on what used to be a table in the shape of a pecha berry.

"What," she breathed and considered for a moment what kind of question she was even supposed to ask, "what _happened_?"

The Trick Master laughed sheepishly. "Well, you see, it appears my newest invention doesn't like me very much. I constructed a robot with me as a role model—very useful, really, unless you provoke him, because then it gets really nasty—anyway, there have been made a few mistakes, I'm afraid. Just yesterday he ripped apart all my favourite leather pants and burnt my jigglypuff plushies." He sniffled dramatically.

May found she had nothing adequate to respond to this. Luckily, at this very moment another explosion happened on the second floor of the house. Without bidding her goodbye, the Trick Master rushed away, shrieking, "Fred, what have you done NOW?"

May decided to leave the Trick House's vicinity before she got engaged too deeply in Fred's temper tantrums (if that was how you called it when robots behaved like this) and the Trick Master even asked her to help calm him down. Quickly, she packed her things and glanced at her pokénav. It read 08:12. She had still about two hours of free time before she had to be at Slateport's harbour and that was more than enough; she would have been awake in about a quarter of an hour, anyway.

Soon she arrived at the outskirts of Slateport City and from there on, it took her only a few minutes to reach the town's heart, the market, which meant the walk to the harbour would only be a few minutes long. With relish she strolled down the promenade, halting here and there to awe at the curiosities that could be found at the stalls. When a distant church bell rang and announced it was nine o'clock, May stopped at a nearby bakery to get some breakfast. The shop was full of customers, most of them being locals probably on their way to work, and although May almost got squashed between a small, fat man with a savage looking moustache and an old lady wearing a broad neon-pink hat, the food she was rewarded with at the end was definitely worth it. The bread was excellent and the croissants were simply beyond words. Inwardly, she made a note to visit Slateport more often.

She continued exploring the market for another half an hour or so, buying a pair of cute new earrings and a few potions for her pokémon, but as she was gradually growing more and more nervous she gave up twenty to ten, and strode—_not ran_—over to the harbour. It was quite the sight to see. Now more so than ever, with these crowds of trainers lining up in front of a large ship that easily put every other around in the shade. Far away in the distance, she could make out the beginning of the queue. A young man at the very front pulled out a piece of paper, showed it to a sailor who gave his approval, and disappeared inside the ship's belly.

A touch of foreboding washed over May, as she noticed the bold, cobalt coloured letters on the white, most likely freshly, painted walls of the ship: **MS Aquarion – 1344609MC**.

Suddenly the ridiculously long queue made perfect sense and May hurriedly pushed her way through the masses of people to its end. She had to wait three decades, at least, until she was the one standing in front of the sailor who controlled the passengers. By the time this finally was the case, she felt so exhausted from waiting that she had almost forgotten what she was even waiting for.

"Invitation?" asked the sailor in a very bored sort of tone.

"Huh?" asked May in a very intelligent sort of tone.

The sailor rolled his eyes and groaned to emphasise the gesture. "Your invitation," he explained flatly. "Before you can go in, we need to check if you have one."

Panic crept up May's spine. "Err," she said, while retracing everything she had put into her bag. She was fairly certain that the letter sent by Barbara McAllister from the Leading Management of Aquarion Pokémon Training Camps for Battlers, Breeders and Coordinators wasn't one of them. "I don't have it with me?" she tried and offered the sailor one of her sweetest smiles. Predictably enough, he ignored it and settled on sneering at her instead.

"Thought we could sneak inside without an invitation, did we?" he smirked and several people behind May were cued to laugh. "_Very_ clever, but now be a good girl and go home, will you?"

May was about to retort something, yet someone else beat her to it. "Now, now," the person gushed sweetly; still, the voice sounded positively male. It seemed rather close, too. May turned around and saw how, just a few metres away from her, a tall figure wrapped in a very red waterproof poncho stepped out of the line. His face was hidden completely by its hood. "She's with me," the stranger chirped eagerly, pulling out a folded sheet of paper from a dark purple handbag which clashed horribly with the rest of his outfit.

The sailor eyed the paper with suspicion and, grudgingly, motioned both May and the stranger to enter the ferry. When they were inside, May couldn't help but stare funnily at the stranger in the poncho.

"Don't you recognise me at all?" he asked her crossly.

"I'm sorry," she said, even though she wasn't so sure about what, exactly. "But, well, I can't, you know, _see your face_."

The stranger scoffed in disdain and pulled down the hood. "I would've thought you knew me better than that, May," he said. The girl in accusation had to agree with him, and rapidly began to feel quite stupid for not recognizing that flamboyantly effeminate voice from the very beginning.

"Harley?" she exclaimed, dumbstruck.

"The one and only, darling," he grinned, winking at her.

Harley used to be the wickedest of her rivals in pokémon contests once, always plotting up some sort of trick to make her end up as the loser. (Playing dirty had been one of his specialities.) However, since Johto, when he, May, Drew and Soledad—her other two rivals—had travelled, more or less, together, he had changed. For the better.

"But,"—May frowned in disgust—"but why are you wearing that _thing_?" Temporarily overlooking that it was rude, she pointed with her right index finger at the offending garment. Of course she meant his poncho.

"No, no," Harley sang out and shook his head. "The question should be: Why are _you not_ wearing it?"

"What?"

"Exactly," said Harley, and finally took off the poncho. His usual, cacturne mimicking outfit came to light.

A couple of girls passed them, and giggled.

Needless to say, May was confused. "I don't get a word you're saying," she admitted, although not quite sure why she bothered at all. He'd always had a tendency of wearing—_extraordinary_ clothes on occasions and that didn't even include the time he had dressed himself up as her.

Harley chuckled softly. "Silly as always," he said, pulling out a green hat from his bag, and promptly replaced it with the poncho. "C'mon, we need to get ourselves a cabin."

"But—you didn't answer me!" May cried, bewildered, and still followed Harley down a claret carpeted corridor.

"You know, darling, I'm not as tasteless as you think," he told her, placed the hat on his head and then abruptly halted. In front of them was a large metallic door. Beside it stood a black box with a screen that vaguely resembled a vending machine. "Ah, there we are," he said merrily and pushed a big red button to the left of the screen, which immediately flickered to life. May watched her peculiar friend curiously as he continued pushing various buttons until the machine spit out a small, printed paper. "We have cabin number 211!" he declared and opened the door.

"Harley, what—"

"As I was saying, darling, I am not tasteless. In fact, I have worn this wonderful, though very revolting jacket to protect my style. I can't imagine what would have happened to my clothes or my hair if I had not worn it! The sea air can be a horrible thing at times, you see—"

"Harley!" May interrupted angrily. "Can't you just listen to me for a moment?"

He blinked at her, but made and overall apprehensive impression.

"Where did you know how to operate that device from?"

Harley's face broke into a sly grin. "Oh, I met this really charming young lad—you should've seen him, his hair was one attractive shock of green—and we had an _enlightening_ conversation about this ship," he finished very casually, took a fast glance at the printed piece of paper and turned to the right.

A few seconds passed until May's brain had finished processing data. Within the blink of an eye, she had spun Harley around and pinned him against a wall. She stared at him incredulously. "_You met Drew?_"

"I wouldn't know," he laughed, not looking at her.

"Come on!" she pressed. Inside her stomach she could feel an uneasy sensation building up; she didn't know how she was supposed to act in the possible prospect of seeing Drew again after almost a year of little to no contact.

"Sorry, dear," Harley smiled secretively, "but I promised to keep quiet."

"Which we all know you suck at," May added, purposely paying no attention to Harley's pout. "So,"—she mulled it over—"Drew told you all about the MS Aquarion, did he? Then why is it he's the only one who knows how to get a cabin? Why wasn't it in the invitations?"

Still smiling, he said, "Shouldn't that be obvious? They're trying to find out who's clever enough to figure it out themselves."

"You mean we're being sorted? But why?"

Harley freed himself out of May's grasp and began to walk again. "That, too, should be obvious," he said and his eyes gleamed strangely. "They want to know whether the people they've invited are actually worthy of being here."

May was taken aback. This was something she would have never thought of. Wasn't this supposed to be a fun camp to improve her abilities as a coordinator? And how did Drew fit in the picture? Naturally, the answer could turn out to be very harmless: For example, wasn't it be possible for him to have visited one of these camps already? Then he _would_ know about the sorting and how things worked. But why would he want to keep his identity hidden?

It was all very strange and she couldn't stop thinking about it. Even when they went to bed that night, her head was still filled with questions, the wildest theories and most absurd conspiracies. Nonetheless, about one thing she was very glad.

"Harley?" she whispered into the dark.

There was the sound of a blanket rustling. "Yes, hon?"

"Thanks for being such a great help." Somewhere on the other side of the room May was confident she heard someone sniggering sleepily.


	3. The Talking Door

**Notes:** Boredom and dull explaning ahead! Also, I would like to apologise for the delay. I was busy with pretending to care about my brithday.

—_Chapter 3_—

The Talking Door

May woke up with a dry throat and the sunlight shining directly into her eyes. Above her she could barely make out something hovering. She squinted her eyes; it possessed the vague outlines of a human individual.

"Rise and shiiiine, darling," the human individual sang out. May did not feel shiny.

"Go away," she grumbled, re-closing her eyes, and blindly beckoned Harley to go bother somebody else.

"_Oh no_," he squealed, "You're going to miss breakfast and I don't want to be around a teenager who's been deprived of sleep _and_ food." With a fluid movement of his right arm, he flung the blanket off her and let it fall limply on the floor.

May curled up into foetal position and moaned. She lasted for about two minutes, as Harley had impatiently grabbed her hand and proceeded to drag her out of the room, down a few corridors until they reached a big door. It looked identical to the one beside the black box they had encountered the day before. He opened it and pushed her through without mercy, causing her to stumble and fall flat on her face.

Rubbing her nose gently, May examined her surroundings. She was in a great hall filled with tables and chairs for at least a hundred people. Harley and her seemed to be the only ones in it, but what was that—

"Food!" she exclaimed and rushed over to the large buffet that had been put up on the left side of the hall. Humming cheerfully, Harley followed.

"By the way," she said when she was halfway through her third plate of toast. "Why did you wake me this early?"

Harley sent her an knowing smile. "Oh you know. A cute, green feathered birdie told me breakfast was from six till six-thirty," he replied casually and took a sip of his coffee.

"No way!" May exclaimed, slightly spraying her toast everywhere. Luckily, Harley had managed to hide under the table before his hair could have gotten ruined. "You mean—there are _more_ tests?"

Still beneath the table Harley scoffed. "Certainly. Or did you really think it was that easy?" he enquired as a bemused afterthought.

May didn't know what she had thought, but she was very sure this wasn't how a training camp was supposed to be. Suddenly she felt rather sick. "Could we go back to our room, please?"

Harley took this as his cue to abandon the table and return to the surface. "A wonderful idea!" he exclaimed and immediately began to stride away. May had trouble keeping up with him; he possessed legs almost twice as long as hers and for some reason he was so eager to get back to their room he was practically running down the corridors.

"What—the—hell—is—oh God—wrong—with—you?" she asked him, panting, when they had finally reached their destination. She was lying on the floor and felt near to passing out. Harley did not respond to this, but merely laughed about nothing in particular.

Neither of them noticed The Voice seemingly coming from the door of their cabin which was desperately trying to get their attention through coughing obnoxiously. After about five minutes, it gave up and began to scream instead.

May and Harley winced and turned their heads frantically in all directions to find the bawl's origin. They were rather worried to realise it came from the door—no, not from the room, but the _door_. Or May was worried, at least; Harley was already cackling again. When he didn't stop, she hit him over the head, whining, "This is not funny, OK? This is creepy, this whole thing is." She was shivering and glancing at the door every few seconds as though she expected it to launch an attack at any moment.

This only caused Harley laugh even harder. "There is—haha—nothing—hahaha—to be scared about," he breathed out, blinking away tears of joy. "Nobody's—haha—in our room, dear, it's—hahaha—just the door—"

"You—YOU _KNEW_ THIS WOULD HAPPEN?" May was seething, so profound was her anger. Furiously, she kicked the door. Instantly, the screaming ceased.

"Oi, watch out!" The Voice now ordered May. It was male, not very deep, and sounded unsettled.

May's eyes became wide, while her face rapidly lost all of its colour. "Holy Ho-Oh," she whispered and used Harley's shoulder as support so her knees wouldn't bend. "You—you were right. It's really the door talking."

Harley was, unsurprisingly, still giggling. "It's not actually the door, silly. There are hidden speakers; with them an illusion is created which makes you think it's the door, but it's not."

May, still wary, clung to her tall friend like a leech. Even though she felt she should be used to strange occurrences like this one after the years of travelling through all sorts of places and meeting the most ominous people, a door that spoke was simply too much for her to handle. "If you already know so much about this, then _you_ deal with it!" she spat out, slouching down into a huddle.

She had to admit she was a little bit disappointed to see Harley wasn't even remotely bothered by that. "All right," he chirped merrily, apparently directed at the door. "What are we supposed to do? C'mon, darling, don't be shy! Riddle us!"

Why he was encouraging this creepy thing (person?) to 'riddle them', she wasn't quite sure and, if she thought about it, that was probably better for her, anyway. Still, more than just slightly scared, she waited reverently for the door to answer.

At first there was a sound as if someone was trying to stifle a rather enormous yawn, then The Voice said, "You, strange person—" (it was, May hoped, addressing Harley) "—where were you born?" Its tone was flat, unfriendly and highly anti-climatic. Gradually, May's fear of it faded away and she began to wonder why The Voice had chosen such an odd question to ask and why it was even asking questions in the first place.

Suddenly, she could feel Harley stiffen, as his lips pursued a fierce, thin line. Such an expression was rare on his usually so flamboyantly bright face and she was interested in why The Voice's enquiry had caused such a drastic action.

"I—in a shop for edible underwear in Mauville City," Harley mumbled quietly, glaring darkly at the door.

May found she wasn't quite as surprised as she should have been. "Wonderful," The Voice deadpanned and didn't seem especially fazed by this information, either. "You may enter."

A faint 'click' sounded, announcing that the speakers had been switched off; silence followed.

May cleared her throat. Harley said nothing. May cleared her throat again, louder this time. Eventually, Harley shifted, squeezing through gritted teeth, "Promise me you will never tell a soul about this." He turned around to face her, expression almost as vicious as during the times of their rivalry. "Never, _ever_, you understand?"

May nodded mechanically, easily more frightened of him than The Voice. (She had already made many unpleasant experiences with Mad Harley before and did not want a repetition from any of them.)

He eyed her for another few seconds, as if he wasn't entirely sure he could trust her, and then grinned, although it made a somewhat forced impression. "Good girl," he said, re-averting his attention to the door, and began to search for something inside the pockets of his trousers. He found it in the one back at his rear; it was the key to their cabin. "Ah, there we go!" Casually, he unlocked the door, opened it and quickly disappeared in the unlit room behind it.

May couldn't help but stand there and pity him a little, but concluded the many obscurities left unexplained about the voice were more important. Thus, she stepped inside, as well. Unfortunately, Harley had already shut himself off in the tiny bathroom, probably to shower, so she wouldn't be able to pelt him with her questions until at least an hour had passed. She decided to make use of this time, properly dress herself and tidy up her hair.

When Harley was finally finished with hogging the bathroom all to himself, he had fully returned to his "normal" self, which gave May confidence to start asking her questions. "Why," she fidgeted, "why did the door—I mean, why were speakers at our door? I don't understand," she admitted, puzzled.

Harley sniggered bemusedly. "I'd actually hoped you would have figured it out yourself by now. Darling, your combination skills are lacking." He paused his lecture to sit down on his bed and rummage through his horribly purple handbag. After about two minutes had passed, he pulled out a small bottle of flaring brick red nail polish. The springs of the mattress squeaked, as he made himself more comfortable and carefully began to apply the polish on one of nails after the other. "It's not that difficult, dear, you know" he continued and momentarily May didn't know whether he was referring to her question or his work at hand. "Just another test. And not a very clever one at that, Drew was right about that."

It was the first time Harley really mentioned his name and it made May strangely apprehensive, as though he were a teacher and about to declare the topics for a very important exam.

"He told me, if we followed his advice and went to breakfast on time, we would have problems with getting back to our room. The guy who talked to us through the speakers was supposed to ask us tricky things about coordinating and check our knowledge about it. And we would have had to answer them correctly to get past him." He appeared to have become more and more serious by the second and had even started to neglect colouring his nails; his right hand with the brush lay limply on the bed beside him. May revised her expectation—this was definitely not "normal" Harley. Perhaps, she mused worriedly, this wasn't Harley at all, but a new way to test her? The voice had failed miserably, after all, hadn't it?

Unsure what to believe anymore, she squirmed in her seat on her bed, and had to realise that she really had no other option but to trust "this" Harley. "So," she said, "Drew told you that? Then why did this—this person want to know about something so, err, intimate?" She felt uncomfortable and anxious about bringing this up again. Still, she couldn't find the answer herself and the question just was so _off_. It didn't match what Drew had warned Harley about in the slightest.

Harley's brows furrowed; the look in his eyes hardened at the memory. "That's the point, hon," he said, examining his nails thoughtfully. "That's what makes this test so stupid. There're only few people for the job of the 'guard', as they're apparently called, and the shifts are long. It's a very tiring job to wait for someone to ask difficult questions you hardly understand yourself when there's practically nobody awake yet to begin with."

"So he just asked a random question to get it over with?"

Instantly, his face brightened and he gave a short, excited applause. "Darling! I knew you could think when you're required to!" he exclaimed cheerfully. May would have liked to yell at him for the rude undertone in his comment, but he smiled so genuinely, she merely shrugged it off as unintended.

Harley, who had noticed nothing of her little struggle with her anger issues, was already back to painting his nails, chanting rather loudly about sex in the rain as he did so. "But," May said, before he could drift off too far in the worlds of cosmetics and other, even more inappropriate things, "there's one thing that doesn't make sense at all! If everyone except us is sleeping, why do all these 'guards' need to stay awake?"

Harley stopped singing and smiled mischievously. "Well, there's a catch. Those who're still asleep now will eventually want get up to eat breakfast, right?" May nodded at this and wondered what he meant. "It's kind of the opposite of what happened to us. They won't be able to leave their rooms unless they solve the 'guards' quizzes."

May puffed out her chest angrily. She was indignant. "That's mean! They won't get breakfast, anyway, because they didn't know it was at six, but to lock them up in their rooms, too…! That's just really, really mean."

"I'm really glad to hear you've kept your sense of justice, dear!" Harley laughed again, but May thought there was something in the manner he had spoken in that made her believe he had meant it.

The rest of the day the two spent with catching up on the year they had spent apart from each other. Harley told her he had been in Kanto together with Soledad, but the offer of this camp had been too "fun" for him to resist. Soledad had obviously stayed behind. She didn't think very highly of training camps, he said and looked disdainful, seemingly considering this a scandal. May, in exchange, told the story of how she had run away from home to get here, and about the rest of her peculiar journey. Harley listened well—without interrupting even—but her bad conscience seemed to interest and _amuse_ him the most. By the time she had finished, he was howling with laughter.

"It's not funny," she said and crossed her arms in front of her chest defensively. "I do feel bad about it and so should you for laughing at me like that."

"I'm very sorry, darling," he said, still giggling uncontrollably.

May found it was time to change the subject. "Did Drew also tell you when lunch is?" she asked and really started to feel kind of hungry.

Stopping mid-laugh, Harley snapped his head around to check the clock on the wall of their cabin. Following his gaze, May read six minutes to one. "Oh my!" Harley shouted and rose up. "I almost forgot!" Hastily, he took her hand and led the way back to the great hall. May obediently followed; she would follow anyone for food.

When they stepped inside, the hall was, expectedly, devoid of any human existence. Yet, and this was of more significance to her, a new buffet had been prepared. Greedily, she piled up all sorts of delicious looking dishes and didn't bother to wait for Harley who had not chosen yet.

Nobody came in and disturbed them throughout their meal. Although it was, by no means, a wonder, it was very weird and uncomfortable being the only ones in such a large room. In the morning May hadn't been that aware of it, for she hadn't been fully awake, but now the sensation lay strong and heavy on her shoulders and even Harley seemed less at ease than before.

Afterwards they were both extremely relieved to be outside again, albeit the passages were empty, as well. Or they thought so, at least. On their way back to their cabin something exceptional happened: They encountered two other coordinators, young women, who reported eagerly on all the tests they had to overcome so far. Their story sounded very much alike to what Drew had told Harley.

Before they parted again, May advised the girls about the directions to the hall and to hurry up so they would still have time to eat something.

"It's so revolting," she snarled, back in their room, punching her bed violently.

Harley looked up from his pocket mirror. "Is something the matter, honey?"

She buried her face deeply in her pillows to hide her with rage flushed face. "It's unfair. We're the only ones who know when and where to eat." Her voice came out muffled and adulterated, but the jerky hiccoughing was still audible.

Sighing, Harley put the mirror away. "Don't despair, darling," he said calmly. "Soon they'll receive as much food and drinks as they want."

At that May's ears perked up and her body became rigid. "What do you mean?" she asked curiously, peeking at him over her shoulder.

"We're going to arrive around five. Ashore'll be a great dinner to make up for today. So don't worry, OK?"

"WHAT?" Within a millisecond she stood, frantically looking at her surroundings. "I need to pack!" She began scuttling around and picking up things simply to drop them off again, because something else suddenly was more important. This went on for the next hours or so, whilst Harley took great pleasure in watching her.

At four o'clock the captain of the ship told the passengers through (quite well) hidden speakers in their rooms that the MS Aquarion would anchor at the Soloux Islands, Luna Island to be precise, during the next hour.

May fumbled helplessly with the bandana on her head, as she asked herself how he was capable of sounding so indifferent to the terrible things that had been happening on his ship. How he was capable of living with himself knowing about it. How someone was capable of calling themselves "educationalist" when they had planned things such as the deprivation from food of hundreds of people for the sake of a trivial pokémon training camp.


	4. Luna Island

—_Chapter 4_—

Luna Island

Luna Island was a usually uninhabited, relatively large blob of land and almost completely covered with a forest consisting of deciduous trees and long beaches of white, fine-ground sand. On both the left and the right coast you could see the other, slightly smaller two of the Soloux Islands: Solari and Lavi Island. All three of them were located in the strait between Hoenn and Johto.

In the biggest bay of Luna Island a harbour had been built especially for the MS Aquarion. Naturally, it wasn't nearly as impressive as the one in Slateport City, but it fulfilled its purpose.

Slowly, masses of young coordinators streamed down the stairs of the MS Aquarion. Although the amount of people had reduced itself noticeably compared to the one at the moment the ferry had set sail, (a lot of them had refused to take any further part in the camp due to the many unpleasant events happening to them during the journey) it easily filled out the grand place in front of the dock.

Within the crowd it was stuffy and uncomfortable. Everywhere May looked bodies pressed against each other; the only other thing she could see was the cobalt blue sky and the occasional puffy cloud floating across it. Harley had made sure to stand close to her, which mostly saved her from accidentally getting squashed or suffocated. Still, the air was stale and minute by minute her stomach began to flip into quite an unpleasant position.

Everyone except them was talking and wondering what would happen next, until, suddenly, a gruff voice booming through various speakers interrupted them all.

"Could I please have your attention?" the owner of the voice asked politely. Everything became still. "Thank you. My name is Darius Leonard Burton. I am the president of Aquarion Pokémon Training Camps for Battlers, Breeders and Coordinators. It delights me that so many of you have come and accepted my invitation." There was a short pause in which May imagined a little, overweight man in his fifties beaming at them through round, blinking glasses.

"I'd like to welcome you all," Mr. Burton continued cheerfully. "And hope that in the next two weeks you as well as me and the other teachers, will learn a lot from the experiences and workshops we will share with each other. Thus, let us have fun and work hard to deepen the bonds between us and our pokémon!"

The people around May and Harley broke into a roaring applause, whereas the two friends themselves only very shallowly clapped their hands together.

"Thank you," Mr. Burton said again. "Now please divide yourselves by gender; boys on the right and girls on the left." Everyone did as they had been told, of course including May and Harley, who only had time for a very rushed goodbye before they must go over to the group of their respective gender. "Yes—wonderful. You will be assigned a hut together with five other persons of your sex." A few sniggered at the word. May did not. She was unhappy about having to be separated from Harley in this blob of girls she didn't know. "Each hut will have a chaperon you can talk to in certain emergency cases. These lovely young men and women will now call out your names and lead you to your huts, so be apprehensive. I wish you all a productive time and good luck!"

Almost instantly after Mr. Burton had stopped talking, a strong, female voice started calling out names.

"Abbott!"

"Ackland!"

"Altman!"

Gradually, the girls around May vanished, in dribs and drabs, giggling excitedly.

"Banister!"

"Benson!"

"Chesterfield!"

"Crown!"

After about ten minutes had passed, she couldn't help but curse her last name's first letter a little; she didn't want to wait here any longer. Her feet hurt and she was desperately craving some pork flavoured ramen.

"Eckman!"

"Folsom!"

May looked around, bored. It wasn't as narrow and stuffy as before, still, there were at least one hundred girls surrounding her, although she wasn't too confident about it(—she had never been very good at guessing things).

"Herman!"

"Johnson!"

"Karson!"

"Lexington!"

At that May literally jumped up, startling a group of younger girls beside her, yet May ignored their complaints about rudeness and apologies. Dawn was here! _Dawn_—one of the best girl friends she possessed! She beamed all over the face and eagerly hoped her name would be called out soon, as well.

As if on cue, a sharp "Maple!" sounded and May began to box her way through the crowd. As soon as she was outside, she took a deep, content breath and proceeded to march over to a tall, skinny woman with jet black hair that was tied into a strict bun, and a short legged white overall. In her hands she held a rather long list. Behind her stood another woman with the same overall, but she looked the exact opposite of her co-worker: she had golden, curly hair, ocean blue eyes and clearly picked the wrong job. She was of such a high-class beauty it was ridiculous.

"Line up!" the black-haired woman instructed, her voice sounding both annoyed and hoarse, and pointed firstly at May, then at the blonde.

Not wanting to get scolded, May complied. Two other girls were with the pretty woman, she noted when she got there, looking ominously blinded. Dawn was not one of them. Her euphoria evaporated.

"Hello," the pretty woman greeted and smiled in a very dashing sort of fashion. "My name's Grace and I will be your chaperon for the next two weeks. If you have any questions or problems, come to me. These two will be your roommates."

"Nice to meet you," May said, not only to Grace but also to the two girls beside her, and tried to sound cheerful. "I'm May Maple."

"Nice to meet you, too," said the older of the pair and grinned, giving her bright green eyes a mischievous glint. "I'm Katharina, Katharina Lucas, but please call me Kat. And this is my younger sister Yolanda," she added as though she had nearly forgotten she was even there. "Don't mind her, she's just a little shy and … peculiar."

Compared to her tall, freckly redhead of a sister Yolanda really did look quite peculiar. The tone of her skin was dangerously close to grey and her straw-y hair was at least just as colourless. She seemed tiny and fragile, which only intensified the impression of a porcelain figure. She almost unnoticeably nodded at May, before squatting down and examining the ground.

Luckily, May's other roommates turned out to be somewhat normal, at least. When they were complete, they followed Grace down the beach into the dark, wild-looking forest until they reached a big, most likely artificial clearing in which there were at least twenty wooden cabins and a small, grey building that had "Toilets" imprinted on its front door. Grace halted for a moment to check something on a small piece of paper she had pulled out from her overall's pocket and then led the girls to a hut at the other end of the clearing.

"This is ours!" she declared happily, while unlocking the door. Creaking slightly, it opened and together they all stepped in. The inside of the hut was plainly furnished with three bunk beds and a large cupboard they had to share, as Grace explained to them.

"What's that ladder for?" asked Beth Norris, a small, honey-haired girl, evidently referring to the ladder that leaned against the wall behind the bed she and her friend Rose Milton had picked.

"I'll show you," Grace chirped melodically, took the ladder and placed it directly in the middle of the room. At this the other girls, including May, curiously turned their heads. Grace climbed up and, having arrived at the top, began to frantically push and pull at the ceiling. Finally, after a few minutes, a big skylight was compassionate enough to open itself. "Up there'll be where I sleep," Grace said, panting, and still looked depressingly gorgeous as she did so.

Satisfied with that information (and mildly distraught by her apparently never-fading beauty), everybody continued to unpack. May had chosen the top bunk of the bed right next to the door, beneath her Carina Melrose was currently changing her bed's white covers into black ones. She was a quiet girl (who seemed to have a thing for black in general, considering her clothes and hairstyle) and probably a few years older than May, but as long she didn't moan or talk or do something equally disturbing while sleeping she decided she could care less about her.

At five to seven Grace announced it was time for supper and the girls more than gladly interrupted their discussion about what was the best pokémon type for coordinating. Especially May was grateful. She hadn't eaten since lunch and her stomach had been demanding some input for a while now.

"You're going to eat along with the boys," Grace informed them, winking, on their way through the forest to the cafeteria. May was looking forward to that. She wanted to know how Harley had been in the meantime.

Pointedly at seven o'clock they arrived at another clearing. Even though it was smaller than the one they had just come from, it still offered enough space for a simple, snow white building which, May suspected, was the cafeteria, and even a real pokémon centre. When they entered the former, the boys were already there, occupying about one third of the seats and busily devouring plate after plate. No other group of girls was to be seen; they were the first.

For May this was excellent news. (It meant more food was still available for her.) Faster than any other girl of her cabin, she raced over to the buffet and heaped up as much as food she could carry. While everyone in the hall ogled her as though she was some kind of very rare yet unpleasant pokémon species, she scanned the tables for any sign of purple hair and/or flamboyant clothing. She found it at a table in a corner on the right side of the hall.

"Harley!" she cried out, waving excitedly with a bowl full of spaghetti Bolognese, and hurried over to her friend.

"Dear, watch out what you're doing," Harley warned and backed away slightly. "I can't afford you to soak my hair with sauce. It'll take forever to get out."

May, however, had not heard him, as she was already shovelling her way through her fist portion. The other boys at the table observed them suspiciously, purposefully keeping a safe distance five metres each.

After supper, May and Harley both asked their respective chaperon to allow them to stay behind a little bit before having to return to their cabins. They agreed under the condition that they would go to the pokémon centre where Nurse Joy could keep an eye on them in case something happened. May found this more than a tad rude—after all, she was already fourteen and had already travelled through Hoenn Kanto, and Johto and was therefore more than able to watch out for any kind of danger herself, but Harley, his chaperon Dave and Grace easily ignored her furious ranting.

Cackling and more chipper than he had any right to be, Harley dragged her into the centre, and sat both her and himself at the nearest table, while politely greeting Nurse Joy with informing her that she had a stray grey hair peeking out. Immediately, Nurse Joy squeakily disappeared upstairs.

"Harley!" May scolded him and looked indignant. "Why did you do that?"

Characteristically, Harley had already dissolved into a violent fit of laughter. "C—calm down, hon, I'm just spicing her l—life up a bit!"

May huffed disdainfully. "You are—"

But Harley never came to know what he was. A shrill, blood-curling scream, evidently coming from the forest, cut her off, accompanied by something that was even more terrifying than the scream: a sound that vaguely resembled the cry of a wild pokémon, yet it inhered an aggressiveness; a kind of malice which one normally did not tend to hear from a pokémon, ever.

Before either of the two could do anything, Nurse Joy frantically flew downstairs. "What was that?" she asked and hectically glanced back and forth between May and Harley. She appeared rather pale and faint.

"We—we don't know either," May only so much as whispered, thus she wouldn't overhear anything that happened outside. But there was nothing. No sound, no voices, no anything, just silence, which was haunting enough itself. "May—maybe we should go and check," she weakly suggested to Harley, causing him to gulp, hard.

Nurse Joy chose exactly this moment to lose consciousness. Harley immediately seized the opportunity and rushed over to her, explaining, "Somebody has to stay with her."

May didn't quite know whether she should rather start screaming or simply kick him in the face, but quickly decided the gravity of the situation was higher than the one of her friend's cowardice. "_Fine_," she snarled, grabbed one of her pokéballs, and released Blaziken. A little more determined and a lot less scared, she nodded at it and opened the door.


	5. Reunion, the Second

**Warning:** Short chapter is short.  
**Note:** (Attempting) to write Drew in character is a pain.

—_Chapter 5_—

Reunion, the Second

Outside it was chilly and quiet. Night had laid a thick blanket of darkness over the island that May found impossible to see through. But she knew she would be all right since, unlike hers, her blaziken's eyes worked perfectly fine under these conditions. Curious if her friend had already made out something, she glanced at her. Blaziken's face was white with horror, gaze fixed onto the forest. Her whole body was shaking.

"Blaziken, what—"

The fire-type did not want to hear it. She jumped in front of May and spread her arms out; she was telling her trainer to stay back and be quiet.

This alarmed May. Blaziken was usually a very confident pokémon, so what could possibly be capable of putting her into such a state? Worried, she tried to study her surroundings in order to find any clues, but her effort was futile. Her eyes simply were not good enough.

Sighing, yet without really calming down, May decided it was best to call it a day. Whatever had caused these noises and scared her pokémon, it was gone now.

The next morning began with a very thorough lecture from Grace about responsibility and punctuality, although she seemed more relieved than angry, followed by an interrogation from her roommates (except Carina Melrose), mainly revolving around the questions whether May had a boyfriend and what kind of promiscuities him and her had probably done the previous night.

Fortunately for May, Grace stopped them a few minutes before eight as it was time for breakfast. They took the same small path they had taken the evening the day before and barely made it in time. Breakfast went down nearly exactly as supper had, the only difference being the food and the slightly gloomy atmosphere around May. She was still concerned about what had happened, especially about her blaziken, no matter how much Harley tried to cheer her up.

At the end of breakfast, around half past eight, a small group of three women, dressed in the same white overalls Grace and the unfriendly, black haired woman had worn when the MS Aquarion had arrived at Luna Island, and a small, fat and rather bald man with a big, black moustache that made him look like a very ugly sealeo entered the cafeteria. They gave off so much importance, they didn't even need to tell the trainers to be quiet—complete silence had settled in the hall by the time they had reached the middle of it. At once, one of the women handed the fat man a megaphone.

"Good morning, everyone," his familiar, deep voice boomed through the megaphone. "I hope you all had a pleasant, relaxing night and still manage to remember me after it." May certainly did; that man was Mr. Burton. He paused to chuckle. And even though it sounded quite contagious, it did not reach his eyes, which seemed to remain frozen in their same agitated expression throughout the entire time he spoke. "Now let me announce today's schedule: In a few minutes these three nice young ladies will lead you to our battlefields at the beach. There, you will pair up with whomever you like and fight that person. Each of you can use only one pokémon so choose it wisely!

"We will use the data of those battles to classify you into a certain level of experience. This level will also apply to the workshops—they are going to begin at three in the afternoon, by the way—so if you have been determined to be a rookie, you obviously won't be able to take part in a workshop for masters. To find out which workshop starts when during your stay here, there are lists hanging on a blackboard in the pokémon centre." He looked at them all, smiling broadly, but May believed to make out a dark glint flickering in his gaze. She didn't trust this man one bit.

Mr. Burton asked if there were any questions and when everybody shook their heads, he said goodbye and wished them all a good time, before leaving as fast as he had come.

Then the three women motioned all the trainers to follow them. The walk to the beach took around ten minutes, still, for May it seemed much longer. She was desperately trying to ignore this weird sense of foreboding that had been gnawing at her since last night, now intensified by Mr. Burton's appearance, and wanted to concentrate on the camp and the fun she was supposed to be having, but she was not successful.

Harley, who was walking beside her, let out a heavy groan. This caught his friend's attention.

"Did you say something?" she asked and looked about as interested as a slowpoke would have.

He shook his head in a disapproving manner. "Darling, whatever's bugging you, you need to let it go."

May frowned. "Nothing's bugging me, I'm fine," she lied, blatantly, and lowered her head to examine the ground intensively.

"May," Harley said, stressing the name, and halted, rather abruptly. As they were at the and of the "parade", no-one noticed, and so they were gradually left behind. "I am _not_ stupid—"

"Interesting theory," a foreign voice coming from behind interrupted him suddenly. "But do you have any evidence to back it up?"

Simultaneously, both Harley's and May's heads whipped around. There, before them, stood an apple green-haired boy of average height, smirking smugly.

"Drew!" May exclaimed and couldn't stop her jaw from dropping. "So you were here, after all? Why didn't you tell Harley? We could've—"

But she never got the opportunity to tell him what they could have done. Violently shoving her aside, Harley stumbled forward and stared at Drew in utter shock. "W-what is this I don't like it WHAT HAVE YOU DONE," he was jabbering while pulling at the other's clothes. "So this was what you were hiding under that cloak? This—_this abomination_?"

Drew subtly reached for one of his pokéballs. "You know, my roselia could easily slice you into pieces with her razor leaf attack."

"B-but, Drew!" Harley pleaded. "Just look at yourself! Your outfit is simply hideous!"

Drew desperately attempted to ignore the drooling maniac that had just attached himself to his leg.

May, who had watched the entire scene with a mixture of amusement and confusion, began to study her old rival's clothing more closely. Indeed, it seemed somewhat strange. He wore normal jeans, a pair of sneakers and a black shirt with a long left sleeve and a short right one. Adding to that, his left hand was covered with a black leather glove. It didn't make any sense; why wear gloves when you're evidently not cold?

"It does look kind of weird," May agreed as Drew was busily kicking Harley in the shin over and over again. This being said, however, he stopped at once and looked at her in a very derogatory manner.

"And since when do _you_ know anything about style?"

May ground her teeth and tried her best not to murder him with one of her hair clips. She appreciated it greatly that Harley answered for her. "Explain yourself, young man!" He demanded haughtily and stood up, dusting off his trousers.

"It makes me individual," Drew said plainly. "Anyway," he added and flicked his hair, "don't you think we ought to hurry up? The first battles probably started already."

May fought the urge to facepalm herself. How could she have forgotten?

"C'mon, I'll lead the way," he offered and, without waiting for a response, proceeded to walk down the path to the beach; May and Harley followed obediently. And as they did so, May found that Drew had changed. It wasn't that he was now taller than her or that his back was broader or the apparent fact that his fashion sense had left him. It was something in his behaviour, the way he spoke and moved. She couldn't quite place her finger on it but there was definitely something different about him. It was—it was as though he had grown up from a boy to a man during the year they had not seen each other and was only acting like he was still the same.


End file.
